Sola Fide
by Viridian Magpie
Summary: "The beatings will continue until morale improves." Gabriel teaches Team Free Will a lesson.  AU from 5.16: Castiel doesn't leave to drink a liquor store. Dean and Sam take him to a bar - it changes a few things.  Sam/Cas, Dean/Cas; hints of Sam/Gabriel
1. Chapter 1

** Sola Fide**  
by Viridian Magpie

_The beatings will continue until morale improves. (Sam/Castiel, Dean/Castiel; hints of Sam/Gabriel)_

**Warnings: **Gabriel is getting a little forceful at one point, but nothing happens.  
**AN:** This story was written for the **team_free_love** exchange, for **jabber_moos**e. It can be found: http:/ community. livejournal. com/ team_free_love/ 99476. html. This fic goes AU at the end of 5.16: Castiel doesn't leave to drink a liquor store. Dean and Sam take him to a bar - it changes a few things.  
Many thanks go to **kodamasama** for beta-ing.

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_For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: "The righteous will live by faith."_

Romans 1:17

* * *

Castiel's gaze is directed outside at the storm that is brewing in the East. Sam's quite sure that he doesn't actually see it because Sam knows the expression on the angel's face, can read the set of his shoulders.

He's been there, he's done that, he has the addiction to prove it.

Sam doesn't ever ask if Castiel regrets choosing humanity over his brothers. For one thing, it's a stupid question, and for another, he doesn't need him to say it out loud because Sam is very well aware the answer is, 'I regret the necessity.' After all, Sam can relate, and nowadays he knows all about making a choice that will lead to being changed into something you are not. Something different, something alien.

Outward stoicism or no, Castiel rages against it. His anger is a sight to behold but rarely unleashed. It is only when Sam's own anger and frustration reaches critical mass and he just knows he's going to explode at someone, Dean, a civilian, the whole world, that Cas lets go as well. On those nights, they tear at each other, tear at the other's clothes, push their mouths together in bruising, terrified, furious kisses. They don't make love; they fuck to forget, to find release from the insanity that has become their lives, and they hold onto each other afterwards and shake, but at least they're not alone.

Sam gets up from the bed, takes the few steps to Castiel's side and gently bumps his arm with his own. Castiel's eyes close, and he takes a deep breath then lets it out, shoulders falling into a more relaxed position. He smiles, not at Sam per se because he hasn't averted his eyes from the clouds yet, but the sentiment is meant for him. For the next few days, Sam thinks, he and Cas will be good.

* * *

Sam doesn't know what Dean does. No, Sam's certain that Dean doesn't do anything, and it cannot be because Castiel is unwilling or because everyone in the whole world is unwilling to help him let off steam. Dean just doesn't do anything. He hasn't had a single fling since their encounter with Joshua four weeks ago, has been ignoring any and all overtures made by Castiel, and it hurts Sam because that is just not Dean's way. It hurts him also because it makes Castiel miserable to be ignored by the person for whom he took up arms against his family. Because Castiel is his friend, and Sam wants both his friend and his brother happy. Or, if not happy, then at least not quite so depressed. (The pursuit of happiness has never been their goal, and they're too busy trying to save the world anyway.)

They, and Dean specifically, aren't too busy to let go, however, and yet Dean simply doesn't. Sam sees the tension building up in him, sees Dean turn down offers of even a simple hug ("Dude, no chick flick moments.") Does see Dean fight, yes, but not with anything even approaching passion. Dean fights with resignation and a sense of impending doom.

It worries Sam.

What worries him even more is that niggling suspicion of what Dean might be planning. Because here's another thing Sam's learned to recognize: attempts at fooling your own brother and being secretive. For the greater good, of course.

Dean's being a bit of a hypocrite about this, so Sam decides to be one as well. He's got no room to talk, but he's going to be damned if he doesn't try to talk Dean out of doing something so fucking stupid. And if he has to be an asshole to do it? Better that Dean is mad at him than playing Michael's meatsuit.

"If you say 'yes,' then I will, too."

It isn't the best conversation opener; it's certainly not the best time to be having this conversation - three days after Sam and Cas depressurized in their own way, and Sam's own rage and desperation have him boiling again, and Castiel can barely keep himself in check. But then, when is it ever a good time?

In any case, Dean stares at him as if Sam's grown a second head, and even Castiel's eyes go wide in surprise before they narrow in righteous - and it is righteous, Sam's entirely aware of that - fury. (Or it would be if Sam weren't, you know, bluffing and making a point.)

"The fuck?" Dean says. He puts the gun he's cleaning down on the table slowly, as if he doesn't trust himself not to shoot his own brother. Sam's hoping things haven't gotten that bad; though they well may because Sam won't back down on this.

"You heard me."

"Oh, I heard you." And if Dean looked angry before, then now he's furious. Covering up, Sam thinks. "No one's sayin' yes to anyone, Sammy."

"I concur. I haven't sided with you to see you throwing it all away." Castiel prowls over, staring suspiciously at both of them.

Sam can't keep himself from laughing harshly. "Oh, I won't. As long as Dean here doesn't either."

"You sure about that?" That slant of Dean's eyes, the shape of his mouth. Sam's stomach starts to sink, and a stone lodges in his throat.

"About what?" he asks even though he knows, can see it in Dean's eyes, that lack of trust, and it cuts so deeply Sam thinks the scar will stay with him forever. He thought they were beyond this. He thought he'd regained the trust that Dean had so rightfully withheld. "I'm not going to give in to Lucifer, Dean."

"Can't be sure about that, can I? Next time some demon bitch waves her blood at you-"

"Dean."

"Wish I could trust you, Sammy, but I can't."

He's not going to cry, he's _not_. Dean's already looking close to tears, and that's not fair. His brother's got no reason...Dean's not...it's _Sam_ who's hurt by this.

"Sam's weakness is no reason to go running to Michael, Dean."

And fuck, Sam thinks, mouth opening. Castiel doesn't believe in him either. Sam thought...he _thought_.

All in his head, apparently.

"You know what?" Sam says. "I'm not going to listen to this. Do what you want." He grabs his bag, grabs his jacket, and is out of the door before Dean can finish asking where he thinks he's going. He crosses the parking lot and is already halfway towards the last row when he hears his brother running after him, shouting.

"You come back here right now, you hear me, Sam!"

Dean makes a grab for Sam's arm, and it feels like a bolt of lightning struck him. Or like a ghost walked right through him, setting his teeth on edge, making his neck spasm. Sam turns around and lets his fist fly, nice clean punch right to the temple. Dean goes down, stunned and blinking in surprise, and Sam's off towards the nearest car that has someone getting in and hits the guy from behind. Guy goes down. Sam's on a roll. He throws his bag into the old Ford and mentally adds carjacking to his growing list of crimes as he gets in and starts the engine. In the rear-view mirror he sees Dean getting up and stomping towards him, Castiel only one step behind.

"You get your ass back here or I'll do it right now. Grab the nearest guy and have him pray to Mike!" Dean hollers, and if Sam weren't so...so angry with both of them, he'd be pitying Cas, who's looking torn between staying with Dean, quite possibly to punch him too, and going after Sam.

But Sam feels no pity. He hits the gas and drives off.

* * *

The thing about anger management issues is this: once you calm down and look at things rationally, you regret your actions. And then you think you're an idiot. So Sam doesn't feel all that good about hitting Dean - the fact that his knuckles smart doesn't help because it keeps reminding him. On the other hand, Sam didn't flip his lid for no reason. And while he knows that this is the absolute last thing they need, he can't make himself call either of the others on the phone to make amends. He might have if Dean were alone, but Sam has faith that Cas will keep his brother from doing something stupid.

Well, unless he's drunk. And that really hadn't been Dean's best plan ever, taking a depressed angel to a bar. Never even mind that it took every single bottle of liquor in that place to get him sloshed, Cas just wasn't a happy drunk. He was a demanding, angry drunk who thought that he might as well get the whole human experience. Or maybe that had been Dean's suggestion, Sam couldn't recall. He hadn't exactly been sober either - which kind of explained how he'd found himself in the men's room that night, dry humping an angel instead of passed out cold while the angel was humping someone else. (Sam's certain that Dean _meant_ for Cas to find a willing woman and not _Sam_.)

This state of affairs, the not-calling, lasts for three days, and by the time they are over, Sam's even more determined not to call because, dammit, he wasn't ever going to say 'yes' to fucking Satan. The stupid, messed up things he's done in the past had a purpose, but Sam can't think of anything that would make playing Lucifer's puppet a Good Thing. And Dean should have known that.

(There is, of course, the possibility that Dean thinks that Sam is just a power-crazed megalomaniac. Sam prefers to believe that his brother just thinks he's dumb.)

So now Sam's pacing in his motel room, glaring in the direction of the lighter he threw into the trash when he came back the night before. The stupid thing had almost cost him his life, refusing to work as a mad ghost was trying to keep him from burning the bones that allowed her to stay here. Sam's bruised, and aching, and just fed up with everything, and it takes him forever to calm down enough to even think about sleep. He considers calling Cas after all, but that's kinda like making a booty call to, well, an angel, and falling angel or not, Sam hasn't sunk to that level. Plus, he wants Cas to apologize first, and Cas fucking won't do that if he doesn't think he's wrong. And clearly Cas still thinks Sam's an abomination and controlled by his demon blood or something, or he wouldn't have said what he did. So Sam goes to bed alone, shakes alone because what a fucking stupid way to die that would have been, get out of jail - or death - free card or no, and wishes that he could make things right by snapping his fingers.

He thinks he hears a sardonic 'as you wish' before he drifts off to sleep. He's sure of it the next morning.

* * *

They're in a maze. A giant, endless maze that has no beginning and may or may not have an end. Sam knows this because there's a flashing neon sign that proclaims 'Amazing Maze - Start Point: Right Here, You Dumbass.' The 'Here' is a dead-end, and the arrow pointing towards the only obstruction-less route has 'This Way into the Heart of It' written underneath.

Dean is sitting on the ground and cursing up a blue streak or, well, Sam thinks so, at least, because Sam _can't hear a damn thing._ That's actually no big deal or something because apparently Cas can't see a damn thing and Dean can't move his legs. So, like, Sam's got nothing to complain about according to Dean's text message because Sam can still walk and see and that's more important than being able to hear and not having to rely on your brother's texting to know what's going on.

Well, Sam knows what's going on or, better put, he knows who's to blame for it. A tiny voice at the back of his mind pipes up that it's Sam's fault because he'd _thought_ it, but he shuts that one down because Gabriel needn't have listened. So there.

He rubs at his face with his sleeve covered wrist, almost poking himself in the eye with the button. On his right, he notices, Castiel is running his hands over the stone wall, trying to ... Sam's got no idea what he's trying to do, truth to be told, but whatever it is he doesn't seem to have much success. Sam pulls out the knife in his boot - and how he came to be wearing clothes _and_ boots when he's pretty sure he went to bed in his underwear is anyone's guess - and inserts it between two stone blocks. It doesn't go far, an inch at the most.

'Not Gonna Work, Bucko,' the letters that suddenly appear on the stone to his left proclaim. It was worth a try. Sam shrugs and pockets the knife, then looks up. The ceiling is made from stone as well, but it seems to be fluorescent. Here and there vines have anchored themselves in the cracks. It's a bit like being inside a jungle inside a pyramid, and for all Sam knows, that's where they are. In any case, Sam thinks, there is no choice but to play Gabriel's game. They can't escape any other way. "We should get going. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

Castiel nods then tilts his head. After a moment he frowns and points at Dean. Sam's cell phone vibrates.

_i'm not goin anywhere liek this_ Well, obviously.

"Guess I'll have to carry your fat ass, then," Sam tells him. This is not the first time he's spoken since his hearing went away, but it doesn't get any less strange; he can feel himself forming the words, but he can't hear them. Can't even tell if he spoke too loud or not loud enough. His phone vibrates again.

_so srry 2 bother u princess_ And shit. Shit.

"Stop acting like this is my fault, somehow," Sam hisses out between clenched teeth. "You're the one with the stupid-ass, Michael-can-wear-me-to-the-Prom plan. Gabriel's probably trying to help you along!"

Dean gives him the middle finger and mouths - speaks, shouts, whatever - a bunch of things Sam doesn't catch because he can't lip read.. And that's just…that's enough. He feels his own lips curl in a smile that really doesn't reach his eyes. "Fine. You can crawl then."

For the first time since waking up here, Sam's glad his ears aren't working. Dean's mouth moves, and he's glaring, fingers moving over the keys on the phone, but Sam's going to ignore any incoming messages, and Dean can't exactly communicate with him in any other way. Which is a good thing, all things considered, because he isn't sure he could keep from hitting his brother again, and Dean can't exactly defend himself like this.

And then again, Sam isn't sure he cares. How did he end up being the scapegoat for everything, anyway? Okay, okay. Bad choices - he's made them. But Dean's just being a dick now. Sam exhales, slowly, and counts to ten. He still can't look at Dean without feeling his jaw clench of its own volition, but at least he doesn't feel like snapping at Cas for simply existing.

And for being a dick angel.

He's surrounded by assholes, and the asshole archangel is the worst of the lot. Speaking of which. Sam grabs Castiel's sleeve and pulls. They're going, and if Dean wants to come with, he can fucking grovel.

Castiel digs his heels in, naturally. Sam turns back around when he feels the angel's hand close around his wrist. Their eyes lock. Even blind as he is, Cas' stare is as penetrating as ever, and he looks decidedly unimpressed. Well, Sam knew that already, but damn, this is worse somehow because it's not about Sam's blood being sullied by a demon. It's about Sam being an ass to his brother, who can't walk. (Or maybe it's about leaving Little Marry-Me-Michael behind being a stupid idea. Sam can't exactly tell.)

Either way, Sam drops his gaze and looks off to the side. He stops trying to pull his hand away, too, and after a moment Castiel releases his hold.

It's because of this that the plant growing near the wall receives Sam's full attention. It's a strawberry, and the fruit it carries looks ripe and delicious. Sam frowns and looks around. There are several plants growing here and there on the ground and some more hanging above their heads. They're all, from what Sam can tell, carrying fruit that is digestible. This, Sam thinks, is worrying because it begs the question of just how long Gabriel plans on keeping them in here.

Although it's also possible that they just look edible and are actually poisonous. Sam almost jumps out of his skin as letters in flashing neon suddenly appear before his eyes: They're Good to Eat, Kid.

"Let us out," Sam growls, but the writing fades and no other letters replace them. That would have been too easy, he supposes, and Sam's generally surrounded by people who don't even know the definition of the word easy (unless it involves sex and that not so much, lately). It's his lot in life, apparently. He opens his mouth again to begin another, ah, discussion with his brother but notices that Castiel is already on it. Sam watches them for a while, seeing their lips move and trying to figure out what they're saying. He gets a word every once in a while - at least he thinks he does - but for the most part he has to rely on reading Dean's expression. He'd given up on reading Cas' face long before they ever even slept with each other. Though watching Cas' expression change when he comes is usually the highlight of Sam's week. There's just something about all that pain and desperation bleeding into a look of surprised bliss, Cas' mouth going slack as Sam pumps his cock a few more times. There's something about that, and Sam misses it, misses _Cas_.

Misses the comradery he thought they had, the understanding that the other is still okay, still someone they can respect despite neither of them being what they should be.

In the end, Sam gets to carry his sulky brother on his back. (Dean can sulk like nobody's business. Passive-aggressiveness was invented just for him.) He weighs about a ton and gets heavier by the minute. Cas is gripping Sam's upper arm with his right hand and walking in step with him. His left is trailing along the wall because Sam remembers reading that this is helpful when trying to find a way out of a maze. The other tip he remembers involves a thread, but a, they don't have one, and b, he doesn't want to give Gabriel any ideas about letting loose the Minotaur in here (though considering that the archangel can read his mind, it probably doesn't matter).

They've been walking for what feels like hours but couldn't have been much longer than one or one and a half at most, and even though they're currently going downhill, Sam feels like he can't keep this up much longer. He's just about to suggest they take a break when he feels Castiel's hand tighten suddenly and Dean going rigid against his back. Sam turns to look at Cas, maybe to glean an explanation from his expression, but there's no need. He barely even notices Castiel turning his head this way and that, trying to pinpoint the rumbling he must be hearing, searching for the source, because of the…the rock. Dean starts hitting the back of his head, and Sam really doesn't need the encouragement to start running like hell, Cas still keeping a vice-like grip on his arm and running, stumbling, alongside them. Sam mentally swears retribution; he will find a way to end that bastard, he will! Of course, the damn trickster angel would think it's funny to send a great, big, freaking boulder rolling after them like one of those traps in an Indiana Jones movie, and Sam would bet his left buttock that that's where Gabriel got the idea in the first place. Sam chances a look back over his shoulder and puts on another burst of speed, fueled by sheer fucking terror. The rock is almost upon them, and Sam is starting to believe they won't make it when he sees a large crack in the wall to his right. He throws himself into the niche, but the movement turns out to be too sudden for Castiel to follow. His hand is just suddenly gone, and for an impossibly long moment, Sam thinks Cas will get flattened, but then the angel crashes into him from behind, bearing all three of them to the ground just as the boulder rolls past. From the corner of his eye, Sam notices Dean's death grip on Castiel's tie.

* * *

It's only a temporary armistice, but Sam sort of knew that. Sudden life-or-death situations have this way of making you willing to work with people, of making you get along with them. Sometimes they dispel the anger you feel towards someone else because you could have died and it's silly to stay angry at each other. But Sam and Dean have been in too many life-or-death situations to count, and it just doesn't work for them any longer.

Or maybe it's because Dean doesn't trust him, told him to his face that he didn't.

That one's going to take some time to heal - if it will at all, and Sam has doubts about that. Because, hey, the fact that he's still himself after three days of being apart should have clued Dean in. 'Should' being the fucking imperative word. Sam presses his lips together, and tries not to think about his cell phone. He should delete the messages. Might help. Anyway, time to fix their relationship properly is, of course, the one commodity they don't possess. Then again, it's not like they have a plan to stop the Apocalypse. Not anymore. Still.

"We're not saying 'yes,' Gabriel." Sam repeats for the umpteenth time, figuring that sooner or later the archangel will get it if Sam just says it often enough (and Dean, too). This is so fucking ridiculous. Dean hits the back of his head again, and Jesus, there are other ways to get his attention, and if Sam isn't reacting, well, there just might be a reason for that, like maybe he's ignoring his brother _on purpose._ Because after reading Dean's last text, in which he, unbelievably, asked if Sam had given in to Lucifer yet - and if Sam had, he wouldn't be here, carrying his brother, now would he? So after reading that, Sam's pissed. Fancy that. Now Dean's pulling his hair, and are they in kindergarten or something? Sam stops walking, waits for his brother to release his hold on Sam's hair, and then drops him.

"What?" he asks, turning to glare at Dean, who's rubbing his ass and looking ready to kill him. Dean speaks, and Sam's about to tell him that he can't hear a fucking thing when Cas bends down, fumbles a bit but then picks Dean up. Sam blinks at them. Dean continues to speak, but now he's obviously communicating with Castiel - giving him directions, Sam thinks - because Castiel starts walking towards the next intersection. Sam's about to follow when his cell phone vibrates.

_ brb pissing_

Okay, and now Sam really feels like a jerk again, and how does that keep happening? He slumps against the wall and buries his face in his hands. Takes a deep breath and lets it out, starts to count to ten silently. At five, he jerks his hands away from his face and looks around, heart hammering madly in his chest. Nothing's sneaked up on him, and Cas and Dean are still gone. His mouth feels dry, so Sam decides he needs something to drink. The thing is, they have yet to come across anything resembling a spring or a fountain. Or a soda fountain - with Gabriel, everything's possible.

'And People Claim You're The Smart Winchester'

Sam thinks he'd like to trade with Cas. At least, he wouldn't have to read the stupid comments. Then again, he'd have to listen to Dean's tirades, and it's better that he can't at the moment. Although being insulted by his brother might make him feel less like an ass. It's a tough choice.

'Definitely Dumb' The letters are almost scarlet and blinking quite aggressively. 'Fuck off!' Sam thinks.

Miracles happen. Gabriel actually does leave him alone, or - at least - he makes no other attempt to communicate with Sam. Sam waits for the letters to fade all the way, then looks around, trying to figure out where he could get something to drink.

Oh. Yes, 'dumb' just about fits.

When Cas and Dean return, Sam is busy trying to stab a coconut with his flip knife. It's hard work and needs all of his attention, and that's why he isn't looking at his brother. Yep.

* * *

They keep walking, and the more time passes, the more Sam feels on edge. Knowing Gabriel, the boulder can't be the only surprise waiting for them, and he's proven right - of course he is - when they take a break around noon, and a cat appears out of nowhere. That, in and of itself, isn't exactly a threatening situation. It becomes so, however, after Sam has taken a bite of an apple and promptly shrunk until he fit into the palm of Dean's hand. Sam knows this because Dean leant over to scoop him up just before the damn cat pounced on him.

What is he supposed to learn from this, Sam grouses, peeking at the cat. He ate an apple and then he turned Ken-sized - oh, surely not. The knowledge of Good and Evil? Sam knows that, even if he lost the ability to differentiate for a while there and started the Apocalypse. He does know better now. A giant face suddenly appears above him, eyes staring sightlessly at Sam. They're very blue.

"Shouldn't we try to figure out how to fix this?" Sam starts to ask, but Dean is already depositing him on Castiel's head. Fuck. Sam grips a strand of hair and holds on tight while Dean and Cas attempt to heave Dean up to ride on Cas' back, and he almost gets squashed by Dean's flailing arm. "Watch it!"

Sam's breathing heavily and clinging like a monkey to Cas' hair by the time Dean's finally settled into position and Cas has straightened up. He struggles up to his knees and takes a look around from his new vantage point.

Then he swears. "Come on, you can't be serious." But no, Gabriel seems to be serious, or at least, Dean is taking this seriously because Cas is taking hesitant steps towards the freaking white rabbit.

The rabbit leads them into a large chamber, in the center of which stands a giant apple tree. Its trunk looks smooth as glass, and it doesn't carry any fruit at all except for one apple far up and out of reach of any of them. "Let me guess. This will turn me back?"

A neon sign appears next to the apple: 'Bingo!'

It takes them a few minutes and several text messages to come up with a plan. Good thing his cell phone got shrunk with him because Dean apparently can't understand his suddenly squeaky, sounds-like-a-mosquito-on-Speed voice, and Cas keeps forgetting to repeat to Dean what Sam says. So, they have a bit of a communication problem, but it works out in the end: Sam gets transferred from Cas to Dean's head, Cas lifts Dean onto his shoulders - this is made difficult by the fact that Dean can't use his legs to balance, and Cas has to steady him with his hands - then Dean picks Sam up and lifts his hand until Sam, arm stretching upwards, can reach just far enough to cut a miniscule piece out of the apple with his knife. He needs to slash at it a couple of times, but he does manage it.

When Sam's back to normal size, he walks up to the tree trunk and kicks it repeatedly, imagining Gabriel's face. It makes his foot hurt, but he feels better for it.

* * *

Of course, they're hopelessly lost by now. Despite Sam's attempts to make contact with Gabriel, no new signs have appeared, and for all they know, they might have walked past their destination already. For the moment, Sam's carrying Dean while his brother and Cas are having a conversation about God knows what, and Sam... Sam suffers. His muscles are sore, his back is killing him, he hasn't washed in over two days and neither has Dean, and it's obvious. But worst of all, the world has been utterly silent, and he would give anything, anything to hear his own footsteps fall, to hear the swish of Castiel's coat, to hear himself breathe, to hear his brother's voice.

It's been ten, maybe twelve hours since their arrival when the light that was coming from an undetermined source begins to fade. Sam takes this to mean that Gabriel thinks they should stop for the night, and he's glad for it because carrying his brother for so long, even though they took breaks and he switched off with Cas, is exhausting.

Dean doesn't want to stop. Dean wants out. Dean can take a fucking hike, and Sam's ready to forget all about his resolution to take the higher road and not explode at Dean.

But because Sam can be an adult, he just sets his pain-in-the-ass of a brother down, slowly this time, and heads for the wall on the other side of the path, sliding down and crossing his arms. Castiel looks torn for a moment but then shuffles after Sam, almost stepping on him. Probably got tired of Dean's ranting, too. Sam does understand. This situation just sucks, but treating each other like shit won't help.

Pot - kettle, Sam thinks at himself and grimaces.

The light doesn't fade all the way, for which Sam is glad because, despite being as exhausted as he is, he can't sleep and lying awake in total darkness would suck. He's on his side, bunched up jacket under his head and his back pressed against the wall. Dean's facing away from him, but Sam can see his upper body move in deep, even breaths, a sure sign that he's faking it. Cas, sitting cross-legged near Sam's feet, doesn't even bother with subterfuge; of course, Cas doesn't need to sleep anyway.

Time passes slowly.

An hour later maybe, by Sam's internal clock, Dean slips into an uneasy slumber, and Sam knows he'd be tossing and turning by now if he were capable of it. Sam exhales slowly. They're all so messed up. Sam from birth almost. Dean... Well. Dean. And Castiel's hitting rock bottom, all but all alone now in a world he can barely navigate. The only people who even care, two defunct humans.

Who both _said_ they would be leaving, too. Shit.

He moves his right foot, tapping the angel's knee. Castiel directs his sightless gaze at him, and Sam sits up as quietly as he can manage (he hopes) and shifts closer.

"I didn't mean it," he murmurs, trying to avoid the sibilants that tend to attract more attention in the stillness. Their dad had taught them that, drawing from his training in the marine corps most likely. "Didn't want Dean to do it."

After a moment of thinking how to phrase it, he adds, "I regret it."

Castiel hesitates for a second but then nods, lips quirking in an approximation of a wry smile. His hand moves, and Sam blinks as he realizes he's being blessed - being given Absolution, he thinks.

Then Cas fumbles for Sam's hand, moving and bending his fingers until they are in the right position for _Sam_ to absolve _Castiel_. Sam almost laughs because he's just so far from being holy or saintly what with his blood and _oh_.

Because Cas couldn't possibly see him make the gesture, Sam leans forward instead, both hands reaching for his face, holding it still as he plants a kiss on the angel's forehead, his eyelids, his mouth. He rests his own forehead against Castiel's and just breathes for a while. A tension he hadn't even been consciously aware of until now finally falls away.

Sam finds sleep easier after this.

* * *

There's something poking his nose. Sam bats at it, but the thing only switches its place of attack to his ear, and then back to his nose when Sam clamps a hand over his ear.

Sam opens his eyes. "Dude."

Dean twirls the twig in his hand and mouths 'Good morning, sunshine.' Sam's excellent at reading that one. After 224 times of seeing his brother pronounce these very words, Sam knows the shapes Dean's mouth will make, won't ever forget them.

"Where's Cas?"

Dean points left, and Sam twists his head to see Castiel standing a few yards away, picking coconuts.

It's the only source of liquid they've found here, though there are plenty of them, which, on the one hand, is good - they need water after all; but, on the other hand, Sam can already see himself getting tired of drinking only coconut milk and eating only fruit for however long they'll be here.

His cell phone rings. _ u just goin 2 lie round all day_

"Who's carrying who again?" Sam grumbles, but he does sit up. Castiel shuffles over to them with his loot, and Sam and Dean have what amounts to breakfast. The coconut milk helps a little with the headache that is building behind Sam's eyes, but Sam knows that that pain is going to build over the course of the day. It's not as bad as the demon blood detox - nothing could ever compare to that - but the lack of caffeine does make itself known.

The fact that the ground isn't exactly comfortable didn't help either. Sam moves his head in a half-circle, trying to loosen the muscles in his neck. Then he stretches, arms reaching upwards, and stands. This is when his bladder makes itself known.

Sam sighs and walks towards the next intersection to take care of his business. He uses the moment of solitude to put up a wall between himself and his emotions, so that he won't start another fight because he's feeling almost hung over. He inhales once, counts to five, and lets the air out again.

He's ready for the day. Come what may.

* * *

Sam can practically hear Dean's "dude, hairiest legs I've ever seen on a chick." Only, of course, he can't hear, and these are no chicks anyway, and if they were ever to even vaguely think about getting close and personal with someone, it would be to eat that person. Literally.

Sam swings the branch Cas had broken off for him threateningly, and the two arachnids that have them all backed against a wall skitter away, mouths moving angrily. Sam shifts position, making sure he's between the spiders and Cas and Dean. This really isn't looking good. Sam can't keep holding the monsters back forever. Can't beat them either, not alone, and Cas has his hands full of Dean and is _freaking blind_ on top of it.

Sam makes a decision.

It's an easy one.

"I'll hold them off. You two get the hell out of here."

He will, for as long as he can, and hopefully Dean and Cas will be safe. The spider on his right comes for him again, and Sam shouts,"now!" He swings the branch, but suddenly Cas is there, pushing him out of the way as the second spider lunges and sinks its fangs into the angel's flesh. But Sam has no time to help Cas, too busy with the other arachnid rushing him. And why is it that no one ever listens to him?

A coconut flies past Sam's head and hits the monster right between the eyes. It rears its front legs and Sam rolls, jerking his knife out of his boot, and comes up underneath the spider. He sinks the blade into its weak spot between torso and head. The spider's legs move uncontrollably; one manages to hit his solar plexus, dammit. Sam tries to suck in a breath, tries to shout another warning at Cas because that thing is going wild and heading straight towards the angel, who's just driving his blade into the other arachnid. Sam's still wheezing, though, and can do nothing but watch. But then he sees Dean grab another coconut from a small pile on his left and chuck it at the monster. Dean's shouting and Cas turns, misses the spider that's heading towards Sam's brother now, and fuck it. Sam finally manages to right himself, stumbles towards Cas and plucks the blade from his hand, even though he knows he's going to be too late.

The spider crumbles, twitching.

"Jesus fuck," Sam says. "That was way too close."

Dean makes an 'oh, really?' face at him.

"No, really. Was that from my knife or did Gabriel help?"

Dean shrugs, and Sam sees no blinking neon signs appearing that could answer that question for him. But there's something about this. What would it matter to Gabriel if any of them died? He's entirely capable of bringing them back if he so wishes.

Sam's about to ask Castiel for his opinion - and they really need to figure out how to communicate; Cas' texting skills are nonexistent - but then he notices how pale the angel's become. He's swaying, too. "Cas?"

Cas shakes his head but then clamps a hand over his shoulder as a spasm racks his body. "Shit," Sam says, dropping the blade and wrapping an arm around Castiel's waist. "C'mon." They walk over to where Dean is leaning against the wall, and Sam lowers Cas to the ground. This is just fantastic. It's not like they don't have enough problems already. Sam kneels next to the angel and reaches for the trenchcoat, pushing it past Cas' shoulders and down. Cas cooperates reluctantly, teeth clenched and squinting against the pain. Sam works quickly, pulling off the tie and unbuttoning the shirt. He uncovers the wound and lets out an involuntary hiss. Sam's hand moves before he can think, but Cas intercepts him. He's speaking, and Dean pulls out his cell phone.

_c says it wont kill him. just "debilitating pain"_ Sam reads, and as if on cue Cas flinches, mouth opening in a moan.

"Oh well, if that's all."

Angels, Sam thinks, are the absolute masters at making bitchfaces. He wishes he were half as skilled.

"I think this is as far as we'll go today," Sam comments. At this rate, they'll be here forever, but they can't exactly go on like this. Cas says something, and Dean answers, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Another spasm goes through Castiel, and when he rights himself, Dean crosses his arms and raises both eyebrows.

Cas glares at him.

"I'll go and check out the cave." Or tunnel or whatever. Shortly before the Arachnid Attack, they had stopped at the intersection that offered a choice between a bright and a dark tunnel, arguing which way they should go. Well, Dean and Cas had been arguing. Sam had been steeling himself because he knew what kind of sadistic bastard Gabriel was. The darkened tunnel seemed the logical choice.

Not that they got to choose because the spiders had skittered out of the tunnel as Cas and Dean were still speaking.

There may still be more inside. Sam picks up Castiel's angel blade and approaches the tunnel cautiously, and peers into the darkness.

'It's Empty.'

"Like I trust you."

The neon letters fade, and the tunnel is flooded with light. It is empty, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief. It's not that he thinks that this is over now and that there will be no new danger coming, but there's only so long he can hold onto the tension. He turns around to see Castiel lying curled up on his side and Dean awkwardly patting his back.

Dean meets Sam's eyes and telegraphs 'you better get your ass back here and help' with one look. Sam feels torn between letting his brother deal with this alone just because it would annoy him and offering comfort to Castiel, which really is the only thing they can do. Cas isn't the kind of person who accepts comfort gracefully, not if he thinks you're doing it out of pity, but Sam's used to that behavior from Dean.

It's not pity, and Sam doesn't believe that Cas or Dean are somehow weaker - if anyone is the weak link in their chain of resistance, it's Sam, but Cas...Cas isn't really feeling like himself, like an almost almighty angel, anymore. And Dean. Well. Sam's said some really stupid shit in the last year or so, but he doesn't actually believe it.

He walks back to Cas and Dean and plops down near Cas' feet, puts a hand on his leg. There is nothing they can do right now but wait. He thinks about Indiana Jones and Crocodile Dundee and sucking out the venom and how that really only ever works in movies. He doesn't think it will work here. This place isn't like TV Land, not exactly, and they aren't playing roles. It's not the lesson Gabriel wants them to learn.

He thinks. He _thinks_ Gabriel wants them to fix things between them, but that doesn't make sense. It wouldn't get them to agree to become vessels.

_ur ok yes?_

"I'm fine." He snorts and shakes his head, looking off to the side again. "Thanks to you. Always pulling my bacon out of the fire." Then, because he wants a chick flick moment and Dean will just have to deal, he says, "Wouldn't know what to do without you."

He looks back at Dean, expecting a grimace and an eye roll, but this is not what he gets. Last time Sam saw Dean looking that stunned was...Sam can't remember when that was. He's staring at Sam like he can't quite believe Sam exists or something. "Dude, is there something wrong with my face or what?"

Dean blinks, and his expression morphs into a scowl.

_theres always somthing wrong w/ ur face samantha_

"Har-har."

* * *

The day progresses. They eat; they wait. Around evening, Cas finally recovers enough to be able to walk, but they decide to continue their journey in the morning and prepare for sleep.

That night, Sam again lies turned towards Dean to reassure himself that his brother is still there, that Cas, who is sitting a little off to the side, rubbing his shoulder absently, is still there, that Sam isn't alone in the world. At one point, maybe an hour after they settled down to rest, Dean's eyes open and he looks at Sam and pulls out his cell.

_ go 2 sleep bitch_

Sam rolls his eyes, but he does try to sleep and manages it.

* * *

Sam wakes while it's still dark - or as dark as it gets here - unsure at first what disturbed him. He's tipped off, though, by the chattering of his own teeth and the shaking of his body. It's bitingly cold. He opens his eyes to find Cas and Dean, well Dean at least - Cas has still some of his angel-ness left - lie shivering on his part of the ground and Sam thinks 'fucking screw this!' He says it out loud, and Dean looks towards him, grimacing like 'shit. I guess. What can you do?'

Cas frowns in confusion.

"We're freezing," Sam explains, standing up and walking towards the angel while Dean pats the ground next to him, a long-suffering expression on his face. "Sharing body heat will help." Cas' expression clears, and he holds out a hand. Sam takes it and leads him over to Dean, and they lie down, one on either side of his brother. They press closer, Sam's arm slung over Dean, hand on Castiel's waist, Castiel's own hand on Dean's upper arm where he's left a scar, and Dean pressed between them, looking a little squashed but ultimately warm. As Sam drifts off to sleep again, he thinks that it's better this way when they're all together. He might have said it out loud, and he might have felt Dean nod against his chest and felt Castiel briefly squeeze his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sola Fide**  
by Viridian Magpie

_The beatings will continue until morale improves. (Sam/Castiel, Dean/Castiel; hints of Sam/Gabriel)_

**Warnings: **Gabriel is getting a little forceful at one point, but nothing happens.  
**AN:** This story was written for the **team_free_love** exchange, for **jabber_moose** . Anyway, this fic goes AU at the end of 5.16: Castiel doesn't leave to drink a liquor store. Dean and Sam take him to a bar - it changes a few things. Many thanks go to **kodamasama** for beta-ing.

* * *

The next morning, Gabriel joins them for breakfast. That is if the definition of 'joining someone for breakfast' includes a sudden change of locale. One moment Sam is rubbing sleep from his eyes and grimacing at the thought of more coconut milk, the next he's sitting in a brightly lit kitchen, a pile of pancakes on the table right before him and smelling delicious. He still can't hear a thing and judging by Dean's flailing on his chair, his brother is still handicapped as well. Castiel's eyes are focused on Gabriel, but that's not really indicative of anything.

There's coffee, though. Sam could cry.

Gabriel's voice is like a Godsend to him. It's the first thing he's heard in days, and, while the general tenor of the words is decidedly unwelcome, the sound itself in Sam's head is the best thing Sam's ever heard.

Sound. Words. _Noise._

"If I'd wanted to watch two brothers tearing each other apart, I could have returned home."

The tone is deceptively mild, but the expression on the archangel's face more than makes for it. Sam doesn't think he's ever seen Gabriel so close to killing someone, not for the sake of teaching them a lesson but to let out he feels. And Sam's good at calling up anger when being confronted with the fury of someone else, but no anger comes to him. Instead, his insides are twisting themselves into knots because Gabriel is right, and they've all been idiots.

"I'm sorry," Sam says and is so startled by the sudden return of sound, a clock ticking, a dog barking somewhere, that he almost misses Gabriel's "you should be."

"_We_ should be?" Dean's voice rings out. Loud, way too loud, and stupid as it is Sam clamps his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the noise. This is a bit like being blinded by the light being turned on after his eyes have adjusted to a darkened room, he thinks. His ears need time to get used to noise again.

Gabriel doesn't answer. He lets his gaze sweep over all of them: Cas' carefully neutral face, Dean's furious eyes, Sam himself. Sam drops his eyes and stares determinedly at the pancakes. There is a very long minute of silence that carries with it all the awkwardness silence can ever produce when it is filled with words unspoken and damnably true. From the corner of his eyes, Sam watches Dean watch him, sees the thought cross his brother's mind that maybe Gabriel has a point.

"So, what now?" Dean asks.

"Well, first," Gabriel says, "I'm going to give you back the use of your legs, and brother dearest gets to use those pretty blues to eye-fuck you properly again."

"Dude, we're not-"

"Yet. And don't interrupt me. This is something you'll want to hear, chucklehead."

"Unless it involves a way to stop the Apoc-umph!" Dean's hand flies to his face, pulling at the piece of tape that is suddenly plastered over his mouth. Castiel leans closer to him, two fingers raised and heading for Dean's head. He almost pokes him in the eye, but Dean barely seems to notice as the comes loose.

"As I was saying, first I'll fix you. Then I can send you back right away-"

"Yeah, let's do that."

"-or," Gabriel continues, talking over Dean, "we can get to know each other a little better." Sam is that was supposed to sound dirty.

"Yeah?" Dean asks. "And why would we wanna do that?" He holds up the piece of tape as if to underline his point. It makes a convincing argument.

"It'll make it easier to work together. As it is, you don't like me very much right now." Dean snorts, and Sam can't really stop himself from letting his thoughts on that show on his face. Gabriel's expression, which was pretty flat to begin with, goes utterly wooden. "Kids, if we're gonna pull the plug on Apocalypse, we can't have such an epic bitch fight as you've just had."

Sam replays that in his mind. Yes, Gabriel did just say that he was going to side with them, and that...that sounds to good to be true.

"You're willing to help us kill Lucifer?" Castiel asks, a frown marring his face.

Gabriel shakes his head. Just what Sam thought. Too good to be true. "No, I won't do that." He pauses and clucks his tongue. "There's another way."

"Another way," Sam echoes, just as Dean says, "What? Should we try talking him out of it? Dude, that ain't gonna work."

"I'm aware of that," Gabriel grouses. "But we can shove him back into the Cage."

"The - you mean, it's still there?" Sam asks. It earns him a "well, duh" sort of expression, and yeah, okay. That was a stupid question.

"So, thoughts? Suggestions? Tears of gratitude?" Gabriel asks. His face is a study in indifference as if he couldn't care less what they decided to do. It doesn't jive with what he's been doing to them for the last 48 hours, Sam thinks.

"Okay. Say 're right," Dean begins, "say it's still there. How do we get him to jump back in?"

"Do I have to do all the thinking here? I know it's not your strong suit, but you have to use your brain a little yourself." Gabriel pulls a Twix out of thin air, tearing it open. "So, you in?"

Sam looks towards his brother and holds his gaze for a long moment, sees Castiel nod slightly. It's the best suggestion any of them have heard in weeks. It's the best anyone has come up with since their conversation with Joshua in the Garden. Sam's mind is made up on it, but Dean should make the final call.

"Okay," Dean says at last, pursing his lips. "Let's."

* * *

Barely a second after Gabriel snaps his fingers, Dean is on his feet. He stumbles and sways, grabs hold of the table to keep himself upright. Castiel offers him a hand, but Dean brushes him off, walking around the table on his own two shaky legs until he's standing before the archangel.

There is no warning given, no word spoken. Dean just raises his hand and hits the archangel right in the face.

It's a solid punch right to the jaw, enough power put into it that Gabriel falls backwards, chair clattering. Dean dives after him - or like like a sack of potatoes on top of him, elbow first. And there's no way Gabriel didn't see that coming, no way he couldn't just stop it if he wanted to, but he doesn't. They start to tussle, rolling on the floor, and Dean...Dean isn't fighting efficiently, not like someone who wants to finish the job. He's just hitting and cursing and kicking, pouring _so much_ energy into it, transforming him into the brother Sam knew before the shit hit the fan, turning him into _Dean._ And for the first time ever, Sam thinks, Gabriel's machinations have done more good than harm.

"Glad you think- _fuck!_"

Sam rescues the coffee pot and his mug before the table gets overturned, then joins Castiel in the corner he'd into once the fight had started. Cas barely pays him any mind, eyes fixed on Dean, who's just bitten Gabriel ear. The angel flips them around again, and snarls. "Do you think you're Mike Tyson, or what?"

Castiel shifts from one leg to the other.

"I'm sure I can distract Gabriel for a while," Sam comments, and Cas nods absently.

"That would be appreciated."

The keep watching until Dean starts trying to throttle the archangel, whose expression is somewhere between annoyed and bored. He snaps his fingers, disappearing from under Dean and reappearing a second later, sitting on the counter and swinging his legs.

Dean glares at him from his position on the floor.

"Feels good to be in control again, doesn't it? It's no fun just being along for the ride, all helpless."

Dean's hand clenches into a fist again and he struggles up into a sitting position. "Just how long have you been following us? Fuck, how did you even find us?"

"That's for me to know and for you to simply believe in my awesomeness."

Castiel frowns. "They're both warded. It's not possible to track either of the Winchesters."

"Good thing I didn't even try to track Dumb and Dumber then. Nice car, by the way. Real classic."

Oh hell, Sam thinks. They've never thought about warding the car.

"Thanks," Dean says, ignoring the implication entirely. He's looking more relaxed now, sitting cross-legged on the floor and smirking at Gabriel. "You're bleeding."

"You're kinky, and I'd totally indulge you, but you stink." Gabriel raises a hand and points towards the door leading deeper into the apartment - house? - place. "Bathroom's that way."

"Fuck you," Dean says, but his lips are quirked.

* * *

His brother's called dibs on the shower and was off the moment he managed to get back on his feet, Castiel hot on his heels. Sam's a hundred percent sure he knows where this is going, or where Cas plans to take it, so he's trying to think of a way to snare Gabriel's attention while sitting at the table and nursing his third cup of coffee. The coffee is absolutely heavenly.

"Well, now I know what will make _you_ ."

Sam doesn't say anything because he's searching for a good, neutral conversation topic and pretty much drawing a blank. "Um. Nice place."

Gabriel throws him a withering glance, and it's entirely deserved, too. "Oh please. I know what's on little bro's mind. I'm not going to cock block him, don't worry." He turns a little on the chair he returned to once Dean was gone and puts his feet up on the table. An awkward silence descends, during which Sam stares unhappily at the tennis shoes that barely missed the pot.

"You're an asshole," Sam finally declares because them being idiots or not, there's _proportional_ then there's _excessive_, and Gabriel tends towards the latter.

"Yup."

"Two days of being deaf," Sam continues. "For what? Because you were angry?" Locking them up together to work out their differences? Okay. And Dean's extra punishment Sam understands, can't have Dean run off to say yes to Michael. But his own? Or Castiel's?

"You really are slow." Gabriel is staring at him incredulously, like Sam's missing the point entirely. And oh, come on. Sam groans. So he chose not to listen once. _Once._ Because what Dean had to say wasn't worth hearing. And because Sam was angry, alright.

"As much as I hate saying something so cliché, the best way to avoid conflict is communication, Winchester. Which is something the lot of you suck at." Gabriel sighs, lets his feet slip to the floor, and leans forward. "My brother turned a deaf ear to everything we had to say. Every argument, every plea. And look where that got us!" Gabriel slaps a hand down on the table, making the coffee pot rattle and Sam flinch. Everything seems just a little louder than he remembers it to be.

"It was a stupid plan," Sam grumbles.

"_Yes_, because that was the reason you ran, of course."

They need to stop doing this awkward silence thing, Sam thinks, really, really need to stop it. Though it's probably only awkward for himself. Gabriel looks perfectly at ease, or as much at ease as someone whose family is tearing itself can look.

"What made you change your mind?" He doesn't bother clarifying. At worst, the archangel can just read his mind. If he isn't doing it constantly already.

Gabriel leans back further and stares at the ceiling. "I skipped ahead. Saw how it ended." He shrugs. "How it will end if you both say 'yes.'"

Sam doesn't know why they would. Well, he knows why Dean's considered it, but Sam isn't going to say 'yes' to Lucifer. If, for whatever reason, they both do become vessels, that would mean the end of the world, after all.

Gabriel voice interrupts his thought processes. He's still staring at the ceiling and speaks slowly, quietly. "It won't ever stop. They'll just keep fighting, and they're pretty evenly matched, you know. It will last for so long, and so many more of my brothers will die."

And watching family die, Sam knows, is one of the worst things that can happen. It was bad with Dad, and bad with Dean, and bad with Jess, who was family to him in all but blood. He was going to spend his life with her; well, had planned to. Angels and demons put a stop to that one before he ever really got the chance.

Gabriel's not done, though. "Even if both of you keep saying 'no,' that wouldn't stop it. Lucifer will just use the puppet he has now, and Michael's still got Adam. It's not perfect, but he'll do in a pinch."

"_Adam?_" Sam thinks his mouth is hanging open. Adam's dead. He couldn't...no, of course, he could.

"That's why we need to lock him up, sooner rather than later."

Well, shit. It never really ends. Sam sighs and takes a sip from his mug. "So, how will we open, or close, the Cage?"

Gabriel stills, and for a second Sam can see the resemblance between him and Castiel in the way he holds himself. Gabriel's perfected looking human, acting human, but he doesn't right now.

"The Rings of the Horsemen. I hope you still have the one you took off War?"

"Yeah," Sam replies. "Famine's too."

Gabriel's eyebrows shoot upwards. "My, weren't you busy little bees."

If Sam were mean - which he is sometimes - he could make a dig about how Gabriel obviously doesn't know everything.

"Kind of pointless since I can hear you."

"Then don't listen in." Sam huffs.

"That would be absolutely no fun. Speaking of fun, what you need right now is a little rest and relaxation. Can't have you imploding."

"I don't want- _Gabriel!_"

* * *

The house is pretty big. It has a swimming pool, a sauna, a pool table, a giant plasma TV, about three billion blu-ray discs, and not a single book. Consequently, Sam spends most of the morning playing with Ripley in the room with the pool table. Ripley, believe it or not, is Gabriel's dog. Dean and Cas have finished what Sam assumes was a joint shower, and Dean is showing Cas how to play.

Gabriel himself keeps drifting between them, talking to Sam one moment, playing pool with Dean the next - up until Dean refuses to play with him. "He cheats," he tells Sam as Sam throws a sheep-shaped doggy toy.

Gabriel widens his eyes and points at himself. "Trickster. What did you expect?"

The whole thing is supposed to be relaxing, Sam knows, and it sort of is, but he can't stop thinking about how little they actually know about the Cage or how they're going to get Lucifer to jump back in because shoving him? Yeah, unlikely to work. Sam watches Gabriel pull on the sheep's tail while Ripley's biting down on the head and shaking the toy. It's a pretty simplistic one, so it takes Sam a moment to realize that this is actually a _lamb_, not a full-grown sheep.

A god damned lamb.

Sam experiences a moment of clarity, ideas coming together, exploding into his mind to form a picture of what it is he needs to do. The way to end this. And Sam isn't Jesus, far from it, and he can't cleanse himself, can't wash away the sins of the world, but maybe, just maybe, he can save it.

"Lunch time," Gabriel declares suddenly.

"Awesome," Dean says.

* * *

The thought doesn't leave him alone the rest of the day, but Sam doesn't bring it up, especially not around Dean. Yet, he sees no other way this could work, and while he lies in bed that night, it weighs heavily upon him. He kind of wishes he weren't alone, but Cas followed Dean into the bedroom, even though there are enough of those and Cas doesn't need to sleep anyway. Of course, Cas didn't exactly have sleeping in mind, anyway. Sam gets definite proof of that when he hears muffled sounds coming from across the hall. It's a relief to know that Dean doesn't feel so dead inside any longer that he isn't even having sex. Sam is happy for both of them, but...

But.

Goddammit, this isn't high school. Him and Cas - that hasn't ever been an epic romance. It's been about comfort, though, and that something he's in need of right now.

"Dean."

Oh, hell. Why are the walls so goddamn thin? Resistance is futile, apparently, and so Sam lets his hand slip inside his boxers.

* * *

It doesn't help him find sleep. He's become an insomniac. Freaking fantastic.

"Harder! God, Cas!"

Sam growls and turns till he's lying on his stomach and puts his pillow over his head. It helps with the tuning-out but not with the not-thinking-about-it. What with having his head buried, he misses the opening of the door - or maybe the door wasn't opened, fucking angel powers - but he doesn't miss the snarled "Oh, for Dad's Sake, Winchester."

Sam removes the pillow and looks at Gabriel. "You're naked."

"And you're pathetic. Let's have sex!"

Sam stares at him, lets his gaze drop to the mess his boxers have become, raises his eyes to Gabriel once more.

"Even if I wanted to, I'm-"

Gabriel wriggles his fingers. "Like that's much of a problem."

Sam puts the pillow back over his head and tries not to howl with frustration. "Go away."

"Closing your eyes won't make the problem go away." The bed dips suddenly, and a hand settles on Sam's hip. "The lot of you, I swear. You refuse to take notice of anything. Brother is too entrenched in his woe to see what's going on right in front of his eyes. And-"

"Just. Shut. Up." Sam swings the pillow, hitting Gabriel right in the face. There's a sudden explosion of feathers and linen, and next thing Sam knows, Gabriel's sitting on top of him, hands on Sam's wrists on either side of his head, pressing them down into the mattress. He's leaning in so close that Sam can smell the sugary, sweet air Gabriel is breathing into his face.

"You truly are Lucifer's vessel. You think you can boss an archangel around? Such _arrogance!_"

And no, Sam knows, this is not about Gabriel at all, and if the damn bastard would just stay out of his head, that would be fucking awesome. "It's the only way. He won't jump into the Cage because we ask him nicely!" He's shouting by the end of that, and it really doesn't come as a surprise when the door flies open and Dean and Cas barge in on them.

Gabriel pays them no mind, and Sam doesn't either, really. Their eyes are fixed on each other, and Sam kind of expects sparks to shoot out of Gabriel's any moment now. "Once he's riding your ass, you can't control him, you idiot!"

"I can," Sam hisses. "I've been controlling the goddamn blood addiction. Resisting something I don't even want can't be that much harder!"

"You-"

"I thought we decided that you're not going to say 'yes,' Sammy."

Sam looks away from Gabriel and sees Dean leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, scowl in place. He's wearing jeans but nothing else. Still, that is more than Cas, standing right next to him, is wearing. That isn't really all that shocking, considering that Castiel just looks confused when Sam tells him to put something on. ("I'm wearing a vessel.") What does stun Sam utterly and completely are Castiel's next words.

"I think this could work," he says. "And I see no alternative. Both Gabriel and I are too diminished to present a-"

"Now just wait a moment!" Gabriel interjects, straightening up and releasing Sam's wrists.

"-challenge," Castiel continues, undaunted. "You know that I'm right, Gabriel." He stalks towards the bed, stops just before he bumps into it, towering over Sam and the archangel. "Was your purpose earlier not to show us that we must have faith in each other? That if there is no faith, things fall apart? You tell us to trust each other, to trust you, and yet you have no faith in us yourself."

Gabriel silently glares up at Castiel.

"Could we get back to the part where Sam isn't playing Satan's meatsuit for all eternity?"

"It wouldn't be forever, Dean," Cas says. He's still staring at Gabriel, and Sam thinks, rather randomly, that Castiel really has a thing for eye-fucking. He's an eye-fuck slut. Once he's thought this, he's surprised when Gabriel doesn't react at all. "It doesn't need to be, that is."

"I do that and Luci's gonna own my ass when - not _if_, note - this goes wrong."

"Do what?" Sam asks him, but it's Castiel who answers.

"You may have noticed that Dean and I share a profound bond."

"Dude, what?" Dean yelps, finally leaving his post and joining everyone else.

Cas turns towards him, a surprised look on his face. "When I pulled you out of the Fire, I created a link between us, so that even if we were separated while I battled demons, I could easily pull you towards me." He raises a hand, pointing towards Dean's shoulder. "You still bear the evidence, Dean."

"What my brother failed to mention is that it works the other way round, too. And anyone with a bit of skill, who happens to possess one partner of such a bond because they stupidly consented to it, can use that link, too."

"And yet, the one possessed may have an easier time of resisting from help gained through the link."

Sam's starting to wonder if either of the angels even notices that they're not alone. Heck, Sam's wondering if anyone at all knows that he's here because Dean's busy staring at the hand print Cas left on him, poking at it with his index finger.

"We'd be putting all our eggs in one basket," Gabriel growls, but he's beginning to look thoughtful.

"It's a risk worth taking." Castiel's voice is quiet and low and full of confidence. Confidence that this plan will work. That Sam can battle Lucifer for control over his body _and win._

Confidence, in other words, in Sam.

He doesn't know if he deserves it.

"This bond thing," Dean speaks up suddenly. "What does it do?"

Gabriel shrugs. "It's sort of like a rubber band between souls. I pull on it, Sam's soul comes flying. Not the body though, so we'll need to reconstruct it. Unless can just stick you into a Ken doll?" He smirks down at Sam. Sam glares at him.

"Didn't think so. Alright," Gabriel says, clapping his hands. "I'll make a link, push some of my Grace into him - which will, hopefully, make it easier for Sammy-boy here to resist Lucifer and allow me to pull his soul out of the Cage before it closes - and then we'll go Ring-hunting. Oh, and I need some blood and flesh from you. A finger will do, but we can do that later."

"A finger," Sam echoes.

"Like a blueprint for your body, yeah. Can't build something from scratch. Nothing permanent, that is." He pauses. "You'll get a totally new body; a couple of days with only nine fingers won't do you no harm."

Well, put like _that._ "You're a sadist," Sam says.

* * *

Creating a link between an angel and a human soul involves both of them being without a body, apparently. (Easier access, as Gabriel put it, and that was definitely meant to sound dirty.)

There's a slight hiccup in the proceedings when Dean demands to be present, and it is only moments before Gabriel sighs and agrees that Sam notices that Dean didn't protest the plan itself all. Sam's about to say something Dean would no doubt term 'chick-flick-y', but then Gabriel snaps his fingers, and suddenly Sam can't see a thing, can't hear a thing, can't feel a thing. Then there's a _whoosh_, and he feels static riding his skin and hears a strange crackling. Sight returns a moment later; only it isn't _sight_ as he knows it. There is nothing physical here, and yet Sam can see, can _see_ him the giant, multi-colored wings of an angel.

It's breath-taking. (Though Sam, of course, has no breath that can be taken.)

"What's with the rainbow-colored gay-parade?"

"_Dean._"

"No smart ass comments from the peanut gallery, bucko."

Sam looks past the feathers that are fluttering and shifting as if they were moved by an invisible wind and sees both Cas and Dean...floating behind Gabriel. And that, Sam thinks, is quite strange because a soul...

Actually Sam has no idea what a soul looks like, but he didn't think it looked like its body does, and Dean still looks like Dean, and Cas still looks like Jimmy Novak. With great, gray-shaded wings, though.

"It doesn't," Gabriel grumbles. "Your mind is trying to make sense of something it's not equipped to handle." He lifts and spreads his right wing, pointing. "See this here? 26 colors. One for each dimension angels exist in. Castiel here has - hmm, what is it for you? Gray? - 26 shades of gray." And now that Gabriel has made him aware of it, Sam can see the differently shaded feathers on Castiel's wings. He reaches out even though he's nowhere near close enough to actually reach Cas without drifting closer and is surprised when his hand touches the smooth primaries.

"Distance isn't distance as you know it ," Gabriel says. He puts a hand on Sam's shoulder and steers him away from Cas a little. "Right, hold still."

It's all the warning Sam gets.

Gabriel plunges his hand inside Sam's body - being, soul - and it is the most intrusive, the most intense, the most awesome feeling Sam's ever experienced in his life. He's swept under a wave of certainty, of knowing - knowing everything and finding it beautiful and yet hurting, hurting for so much that is lost - and he can't, he can't deal, he can't can't can't-

Foreign mind holding him up - Cas - then Dean, his brother, keeping him steady, a wall of trust, of faith, at his back, and Sam falls into oblivion.

* * *

He hits the ground - his body - like an inexperienced skydiver landing, a rough tumble into his limbs. His breath escapes him in a great whoosh. He opens his eyes to discover that he's still lying on the bed, Gabriel draped over him. He has one hand plastered on Sam's chest, and underneath that, Sam discovers as Gabriel shifts off him, is a perfect imprint of his hand.

It looks like a brand. Hell, it is a brand. Sam touches it carefully, but aside from a little soreness, he doesn't feel a thing. Gabriel lets out a laugh. He makes a short motion with his hand, mimicking pulling on a string, and Sam feels his mind, his self, jump inside his body.

"Shit." It's damn uncomfortable.

"That shit is gonna save you from eternal damnation, bucko. Be grateful."

Sam chooses not to deign that with an answer. He hears the glide of skin on skin and Dean's grumbling, and when he turns his head to the left, he's met with the sight of Dean almost smothering Cas underneath him and Castiel squinting against the light. Morning has broken while they were incorporeal. Sam looks at the first rays of the sun as they brighten the room, watches particles of dust dance in them, their swirling movements.

Sees the sun shining bright in a cloudless sky and feels his lips stretch into a smile.


End file.
